


Our Hearts, Digging Trenches

by geckoholic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: silverbullets, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-22
Updated: 2012-03-22
Packaged: 2017-11-02 09:17:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/geckoholic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>You know what? Let's not do that again.</em> - Sam/Dean, begins after 6.02 and continues into S7.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Hearts, Digging Trenches

**Author's Note:**

> Based on roque_clasique's prompt 'In the ghost-limb, jawbone, a/Tingling life/in the jawbone, unutterable'. Which, uh, is in there somewhere? This is obviously sort of rushed, due to the challenge rules, and it's, say, not very inventive. Certainly not as creative and awesome as the prompt would have deserved. But tag challenges aren't the time to re-invent the wheel, anyway, right?
> 
> Beta'd by akintay, who also brainstormed with me on and off all day. Thank youuuu! ♥ All remaining mistakes are mine. Also, thanks to secretlytodream for the cheer-leading!
> 
> Title is from "Losing You" by Sleeperstar.

Dean's going to blame it on emotional whiplash later. His brother died, he was gone for a year only to come back and inform him he's been walking around topside all that time; no one could expect him to think this all through rationally. 

Somewhere in the back of his head he knows that crashing his lips to Sam's the very second the door of the motel room closes behind them is a mistake, but that faint voice of reason gets drowned out by an infinite loop of _SamSamSam_. He's aware that he's probably cheating on Lisa even though she told him to get going; they're not _over_ over, he just moved out and she trusts him and he's never pegged himself as the two-timing type, but... 

It's Sam. It doesn't feel like cheating, or like a mistake or like incest or something dirty and wrong. It feels right, as if it's been a long time coming and Dean's just now realized it. And that feeling seems to be mutual, based on the fact that Sam lets himself be steered towards the bed easily, the way he chases after Dean's mouth when Dean pulls away to get rid of his shirt, his low murmurs of "yeah" and "come one" and "man, finally". 

Intoxicating, is what it is. Dean's drunk on Sam, his voice, his scent, his body moving underneath his own, and every second of this makes him fall faster. Sam's beautifully responsive, each of Dean's touches produces a different kind of sound, he writhes and arches and moans. He's needy and demanding, and when Dean slides into him he clutches and claws at his back, pumps his hips up to meet Dean's thrusts. 

They come apart sweaty and sticky and way too soon as far as Dean's concerned. But Sam pokes at him before he's even come down from his orgasm, demands he pull out and informs him that he's going to go over to the other bed and Dean can sleep in the wet spot, thank you very much. 

Irritated, Dean gets up to get rid of the condom and clean himself up, but it's not like he's planned on cuddling either. He doesn't think much of it until the next morning. 

 

***

 

When Dean blinks awake, Sam's already up. He shrugs, takes a paper cup of coffee out of the tray that sits next to him on the table and shoves it into Dean's face. It's lukewarm and too strong, bound to give him a headache or heartburn or both, but Dean drinks it anyway. 

"So," Sam starts. "Last night." 

The caffeine infusion does nothing to clear the sleep-fog out of Dean's head. Even though there are a million different thoughts floating around in his head he can't get hold of a single one of them, so his reply ends up being, "Uh, yeah?" 

Sam leans back in his chair. "You know what? Let's not do that again. Its been fun – you're indeed as great a lay as your reputation implies – but I think I'll stick to girls. I can't even sit right today." As if to underline his point, he shifts and groans. 

Dean's dumfounded. He doesn't know what he expected – freakouts, discussion, talking it out Sam-style, or maybe awkward silence and stolen glances – but this, he wasn't prepared for. Did he just get dumped by his brother? Although it doesn't feel quite like that to Dean. It's more like a dismissal: we tried, didn't like it, let's move on. 

Dean's had quite a few one-night stands in his time, been put in his place once or twice when he overstayed his welcome, but he never felt so cheap.

 

***

 

They don't talk about it. Business as usual, and soon Dean gets distracted by getting turned into a vampire, almost killing Lisa, Sam's missing soul and the mission to get it back, and in the grand scheme of things the issue of their mutual incestuous attraction gets pushed into the background. Dean's pretty sure Sam doesn't even remember it happened, what with the wall in his head, and he's not going to risk Sam's sanity for the benefit of sounding out the exact depth and nature of their feelings for each other. 

He swallows it down. Sometimes he lets himself look a little longer than what'd be appropriate and normal, when he's sure Sam won't notice. The image of his brother – naked and spread out and balling up the sheets in his fists – makes frequent appearances in his jerk-off fantasies, but that's about it. 

 

***

 

It's not until Cas breaks the wall and Sam gets joined with all his memories that he starts to behave differently. Not right after, he's too busy trying to put the devil back in the box, but as things calm down, Dean starts to suspect that Sam _remembers_. 

The first time Dean notices it, they're holed up in Bobby's cabin. Dean's still in his cast. He reaches out for Sam's wrist as he passes by so that he can ask him to hand over the remote, and Sam flinches at the touch. Honest-to-god, full body flinch, so hard Dean's surprised he doesn't jump away and knock the table over in the process. 

Dean pulls his hand back as fast as he can, buries it underneath his good leg. "Sam? You okay?" 

"Yeah. Sorry. Just... You startled me," Sam replies, averts his gaze and retreats to the kitchen, and Dean decides to blame it on one of Satan's cameos. 

 

***

 

That theory doesn't hold, though, because the trend continues. Sam's fine with being touched by anyone else, he doesn’t bat an eyelash when a witness puts a hand on his shoulder or someone bumps into him in a crowd, but if it's Dean? He ducks away, flinches, pulls back and gets out of reach. 

Dean's never been a genius at math, but he can put two and two together. 

 

***

 

For a little while, Dean's worried that he might have taken advantage of Sam, of his soulless self, and that is brother is disgusted by him and can't stand the touches because of that. It makes for an odd atmosphere between the two of them, each of them trying to stay away from each other. Dean never realized before how often their job entails casual touching, even if he doesn't count the pat-the-other-down-to-make-sure-he's-fine. 

But Sam's reaction to that makes him doubt that assumption. Because _now_ he starts to throw Dean those glances, the kind Dean expected from the start, before T-1000 unceremoniously dumped his ass instead. He only catches it because he still stares himself, never really has been able to shake that habit once it manifested itself, and every now and then, they stare at the same time. 

It's a little bit like in High School, making starry-eyes at a crush, and Dean gets annoyed with it pretty fast. Because they're not fifteen anymore; they're grown men, they've both been to hell and came back and still struggle with it, saved the world a few times, and they definitely have bigger problems than this. Yeah, maybe it's wrong and perverted and very much not the way brothers are supposed to feel about each other. So what? After all they've been through, they're fucking entitled to _weird_ , and maybe to wrong and and perverted too. 

That's the reason why, the next time he catches Sam staring, Dean doesn't look away. They're alone in a random motel, between hunts, cleaning guns and knifes, and he doesn't even blink. He holds Sam's gaze, to erase any doubt that this is still accidental and innocent, and Sam looks away, but only for a moment. Then his eyes flicker back to Dean, on and off, until he throws the dagger he's been working on back into the duffel bag, curses and stands. Once he's on his feet, he doesn't quite know what to do with himself, just stands there and looks at the carpet, the wall, the bed, anywhere but at Dean.

Dean considers letting him stew in his own juices for a while, but the point of this isn't to be mean or cruel. “Sam”, he says. “Come on, look at me.” 

“No,” Sam whispers. “I can't.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because we, uh. What I did – “

“ _You_ didn't do anything. _We_ fucked, and I remember that to be very mutual. If anything, I'm the one who made a mistake. I initiated it, and maybe I should have known it wasn't really you.”

That gets Sam's attention. He finally looks up, straight at Dean. “Hey, no, don't think that. I wanted it, at the time, I still would have wanted it with my soul intact, and I treated you like shit afterwards. Don't you dare take the blame for this!”

“Does someone have to?” 

Sam blinks at him, puzzled. “Huh?” 

“Does someone have to take the blame? Can't this be a good thing?” 

“Seriously, Dean? Last time I checked, we were still related. And we _had sex._ ” 

“Yeah. And I enjoyed it. A lot, actually.” 

“Uh.” Sam stares at Dean as if he just announced that he's contemplating marrying a hellhound. “So you're okay with it?” 

“The idea took some getting used to, but yeah. I am.” 

The only reaction Dean gets is a raised eyebrow and an expression between doubtful and shocked. Speechless Sam, that's a new one, and somehow not as much fun as Dean would have imagined. 

“Look, if I want it, and you want it, what's the harm? No one's getting hurt, no one has to know, and it's not like one of us could get pregnant and have deranged babies. It could work, and we deserve something good for a change. Don't we? “

Sam sinks down onto the bed, the same spot he jumped up from minutes ago, and runs a hand through his hair. “I dunno. I'll have to... Can I think about it?” 

All faked nonchalance, Dean shrugs. “Sure. Take all the time you need.” 

 

***

 

Sam does take his time, for more than a week, and it nearly drives Dean insane. In the year since it happened, he never longed for this, not really, because for the most part he simply thought it wasn't in the cards. But now that it's in reach he _wants_ it. Badly. 

They're in a graveyard when Sam makes his decision, simple salt-and-burn, and somehow Dean finds that fitting. He doesn't make a fuss, doesn't give a speech, he simply bends down when he puts away the gasoline can, to where Dean's crouching over the grave and watching the bones burn, bends his face with a finger on his jaw and kisses him. It's slow and gentle and almost a little shy, and it's over before Dean can fully wrap his head around the fact that Sam did it in the first place. 

Sam smiles down at him, and Dean has to clear his throat before he's able to ask, “Does that mean we, well – “

“Yeah, I think I just made a move on you. Or answered to yours. Whatever.” 

 

***

 

Later, in the motel, it's Sam who pushes Dean toward the bed while he's still in his jacket, undresses him slowly, touches him everywhere. The second time is even better than the first, laced with meaning and the promise of more, so much more than just a one-time thing that neither of them actively signed up for. 

When Dean wakes this time, Sam's still asleep. He's curled up around him, warm and solid, snoring softly into his shoulder blades, but he comes awake when Dean tries to disentangle himself. 

“Hey,” he says. “Where are you going?” 

“Shower. I'll be quick, so there'll be enough hot water left for you. “ 

Sam grins. “That's a generous offer, but nah. Not yet. Let's do this again?” 

The answer to that can't be anything other than yes, but Dean doesn't say it out loud. He turns around to face Sam, who's still grinning, and sets out to _show_ it. Twice this morning, if he has to. He's thorough like that.


End file.
